124: Aware But Not Yet There
On noticing the ways we brace when there's nothing to brace against
Have you ever become aware of a way of being that no longer works for you, but you’re not yet sure what the new one even is?
It feels like wearing clothes you’ve known for years, clothes that once fit you well. But somehow they don’t sit the same on your body anymore. So you decide to go out and look for something new… and nothing calls your attention.
You feel confused. Lost.
There’s an urge to rush into “what’s next,” even though you don’t know what “next” means. There’s a subtle tendency to blame people or circumstances around you. And when your mind finds someone to blame, or at least something to name, you feel a strange relief.
Relief because now there’s a reason.
But underneath it, you still feel fragile. Slightly unstable. You look for the woman who used to feel certain, and you can’t quite find her.
January started a bit different for me.
I signed up for the Sober Reset Challenge with Josh Woll, with the intention of exploring my relationship with alcohol. I was grateful to be inside such a safe container, surrounded by people genuinely wanting to become more conscious.
At some point, I realized I had never considered alcohol a problem in my life. I could go days or weeks without drinking. I never used it to numb negative emotions. Often one glass was enough, and I genuinely enjoyed a good white wine.
But as the days passed, I started feeling better. Clearer. More present. More energized.
And in removing something I didn’t think was a problem, I gained perspective.
That’s when a question came:
What else in my life do I not consider a problem, but if I removed or shifted it, would change everything?
This essay is not about sobriety.
The reset challenge, for me, wasn’t about alcohol. It was about noticing interferences.
And what I started noticing was the way I communicated with the people closest to me.
There was a tone. A subtle intensity. A way of responding that didn’t match who I want to be, or what my heart knows about love.
With that awareness came shame. Disappointment. And an almost immediate thought: if I can see it now, I should already know how to fix it.
But awareness doesn’t automatically give you the new answer.
The way I communicated felt like old clothes on a body that had already evolved, yet I kept reaching for them out of habit. And if I’m very honest, out of patterns.
Sometimes growth doesn’t come from fixing what’s broken.
It comes from outgrowing what was once acceptable.
I started noticing my inner experience more clearly in situations that were seemingly innocent. I was anticipating an attack. I felt guarded. Defensive. As if I was bracing for something wild… when the moment was simply asking for listening. Or even humor.
Nothing was actually threatening me.
So I had to gently ask myself: what am I protecting?
And then, with more clarity in my body, something deeper revealed itself.
The communication wasn’t the problem. It was the symptom.
What I started noticing were the small moments throughout the day. The tiny things that would close my heart, one by one. Things I wouldn’t even name as significant. A slight irritation here. A small disappointment there. A moment of impatience. Nothing that felt like it mattered.
But they accumulated.
I realized I could (often) hold my heart open through bigger challenges. Through moments that would feel like obvious tests of love. Those, I could meet with more presence.
But the small ones? I was missing them completely.
And by the time I was communicating with the people I love most, my heart had already been closing in small ways all day long. So of course the communication came out less than love. Not because I wanted it to. But because I was already carrying all those tiny closings with me.
That’s what the clarity has been showing me. The small things matter more than I thought.
I don’t have a grand conclusion. I don’t have a new perfected version of myself to present.
What I have is this awareness.
That sometimes the struggle to grow isn’t dramatic. It’s quiet. It’s subtle. It’s noticing the ways we brace when there is nothing to brace against.
It’s admitting that something isn’t wrong, but it’s also not aligned.
And maybe that’s enough for now.
And I can feel this “in-between” state touching everything, even my work.
Not long ago I was writing three essays a week, with ease. And then this one came, and I found myself staring at the page for hours. Draft after draft. Not because I didn’t have something to say, but because something in me was reorganizing.
I think this is part of what business asks of us too.
Not just to create, but to meet ourselves. To notice the places we brace, the places we polish, the places we hide, and to let our work come from a truer place, even when we don’t yet know what that “new way” looks like.
Maybe growth is not about becoming someone new.
Maybe it’s about softening into what my heart already knows, without the old armor.
This is where I am.
And if you recognize yourself somewhere in this, you’re not alone.
With Love,
Carolina
Happenings
Substack Unconference #001: 581 days to Montreal
Let’s just say… I’m excited and scared about this adventure Phil and I just signed up for.
I love the community energy of it.
The idea of co-creating something in public. Alone we may go faster, but together we go further — and this feels like choosing the longer road on purpose.
If you’re curious about what we’re building, Issue #001 is already out. We are in the very early stages — nothing locked in, everything still a question — and already there’s support gathering around it. If it speaks to you, come subscribe.
Come be part of building it with us
Who We Are Celebrating This Week
Jenn Ocken
Celebrating Jenn Ocken she is a Substack Unconference Founding Builder number #4
Jenn publishes Creative Return… for those done performing certainty and ready to return to discernment. Quiet rebels. Deep feelers. Creators of the in-between. She’s all about exchanging ideas, not just content, and that’s exactly what we’re here to do.
Happy to have you with us, Jenn. Let’s have fun while we build this event.
Things I’d Like to Share
Some great Substack accounts I came across lately:
Swallows and Crows for great music. It’s just so beautiful
Patricia W. for relationship with self. Her Consciously publication is full of gold, I love the way she writes and the clarity she brings to the most confusing moments.
If you're dealing with what I described here, this one is great: When Your Old Self Has Died But Your New Self Hasn’t Fully Emerged Yet
Smarter Substack for Substack Growth. Jari Roomer, Philip Hofmacher and Sinem Günel just launched this and they’re on fire.
These three know Substack inside out.
Here’s what they’re doing: Substack is simple. Growing on Substack isn’t. The problem isn’t lack of information, it’s filtering through the noise to find what actually matters. Smarter Substack solves that.
They deliver three carefully selected Substack resources straight to your inbox every weekday. No long essays. No recycled advice. No opinions pretending to be strategy. Just the most valuable resources for creators who actually want to grow.
Samantha Dion Baker for beautiful art and creative work. her publication makes my Substack prettier and happier. full of colors and creative ideas.
If you read this and felt something stir, but you’re not sure what to do with it, that’s okay.
You don’t need to know exactly what you want. You don’t need to impress us. You don’t need a polished pitch for your business or a clear explanation of why you’re stuck.
You just need to be honest about where you are.
Maybe you’ve been scattered across too many ideas and you’re looking for the one that would organize everything else. Maybe you’ve been sitting in rooms that only speak half your language, strategy without soul or spirit without systems, and you’re tired of choosing. Maybe you just want to be in a conversation where both parts of you are welcome.
This is 30 minutes for us to listen, ask a few questions, and share what we see. We’ll talk about what you’re building, what’s getting in the way, and whether working together makes sense.
P.S. You can read all previous editions of the newsletter here, and you can upgrade your subscription here.
I really appreciate you mentioning my work - thank you 🤍
And this post resonates a lot. That in-between space, where we know what no longer serves us but are still discovering what does, is such an honest part of the process.
I went sober in January and noticed a lot of nuances that came up around alcohol. It’s freeing to be able to break away from a habit that’s not neccesarily a problem but often a distraction. I relate to being in the in between. There is no real time line of when you’re going to find the clothes that fit. Being able to remove the ones that don’t anymore feels like freedom but naked at the same time. And that’s a vulnerable place to be. The longer we can sit in the vulnerability of the nakedness, when we finally find what does fit, it fits like a glove. And that’s what is exciting for me.